


Still Swinging

by Azure_K_Mello



Series: After the War [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Matt Murdock, Deadpool being Deadpool, Gen, Matt Murdock is a Good Bro, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Peter Parker is fine, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), friendship is what we've got
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 05:02:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12833853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azure_K_Mello/pseuds/Azure_K_Mello
Summary: A snapshot of Peter’s life and recovery after the civil war. He keeps his friends close as he retires and follows Tony’s orders. Sequel to Good Enough.





	Still Swinging

**Author's Note:**

> I really intended to write Good Enough as a standalone thing. But then, I kept thinking about Peter and what Tony’s order to retire would mean for him. This is all MCU so it’s RDJ, Tom Holland, Charlie Cox and then comic book Deadpool.

He kept his head down after that day at the Stark mansion. Incidents in Queens were handled by Frank, Wade and Matt. And, honestly, Peter felt bad about that. But, also, he got an A on history midterm and he was doing so well on the academic decathlon team. He swung around, sparred a little with Matt, telling him about his upcoming official retirement, and ate chimichangas with Wade. He worked with Tony and he got more rest than he had since before Ben had died. 

Three days after Peter had broken down in Tony’s lab the man had handed Peter six doctor profiles and said, “Let’s go shopping.” They spent a Saturday going around, Peter interviewing doctors before he said, “The third one, Dr. Neta, I liked her. I could talk to her.” They had gone back and Tony had presented her with an NDA. Once a week Tony took him to what he told May was “science dinner” but really, Peter went to therapy and then Tony and he hit up a filthy but delicious Chinese place for dinner. Peter had started sleeping better. Tony said he was “proud” of Peter a lot. He said it with a joking tone but they both knew he kind of meant it.

After two months, Tony said, “Hey, Pete, make one of your YouTube videos where you officially retire and name Richard Rider, aka Nova, as the new superhero for Queens. Do me a favor and let me watch it before you post it?” 

Peter nodded, “Do you like him, Richard?”

“I do.” Tony nodded. “He asked if he could have a sit down with you. He’s from Queens but he would like a little more insight into how you work. Think of it as onboarding your successor. You can wear your mask, he doesn’t need to know Peter Parker he just needs to learn how to take over your turf. His request for a meeting and respect for you is actually part of what made me like him.”

“Sure,” agreed Peter. Richard came over for coffee and the three of them sat in the yard, Peter talking statistics, hot spots and routes. Richard took notes and Peter said, “Don’t treat it like it’s Manhattan. It’s the little burrow that could, y’know? It’s just a really big neighborhood. It’s way safer for most stuff than the other burrows but we have a lot of sleepy little neighborhoods that nurture bad guys who go under the radar.” Peter gave the man his own files on each of the big criminals who bugged him. 

“You have files on them?” asked Tony.

“Have to keep track of them somehow,” answered Peter as he ran through the strengths, weaknesses and pressure points. Once he was done he said, ‘Tony, can I keep my spider phone in case he needs ultra-emergency backup?”

“No, I’m his ultra-emergency backup. You’re mine. Should I feel it’s so dire you have to come out of retirement, I’ll be the one calling you. But as you’re retiring, there is a very good chance you will go to prison if you go superheroing without signing the Accords. So, no, Spidey, Richard can’t have your number as backup. He can have it so he can shout, ‘What did you say would happen if I got the Vulture wet?’ mid-fight and ask for directions. We can do that. But he cannot request your physical help.” 

That was actually comforting to Peter, unless he wanted to upset the UN, there was no going back. He had tangled with the police a few times before they decided he was more of a bonus than a liability but this was the UN. 

That night, he went up on a roof in Queens and set up his phone with its high-def camera and did a swinging flip into the frame before waving at the camera. He used the thicker New York accent he used when being Spider-Man. He’d used calculations from voice recognition software to figure out how to speak behind the mask. By changing his pitch, cadence and accent all slightly computers could not figure out who he was. “Hi, everyone. I know there’s been a lot of chatter about why I haven’t been very active since the Accords. Some people think I died in Berlin because I’ve been swinging and you haven’t heard my voice. I can confirm that Captain War Criminal, sorry I mean Captain America — Freudian slip — did not kill me in Berlin. He just dropped storage container on me and ignored the requests of the UN to accept that he’s scary. He made a few of my teeth loose, gave me a bad black eye and I had a pretty bad concussion but I’m fine.” He shrugged at the camera. “The Accords only pertain to superheroes, the guys who want to act outside the military and the police. I’ve always bowed to the police, called them in, tipped them off. I was not a superhero I was a street hero. The Accords didn’t pertain to me. And then I sided with Iron Man and stood up to the Star-spangled Attempted Murderer with a Bad Plan — sorry, slip again, I meant to say Steve Rogers. Standing up to him in Germany made it so that I was acting as a superhero and now the Accords apply to me. So that’s the reason you’ve seen me swinging but not fighting anyone, why you’ve seen Daredevil outside Hell’s Kitchen. I had to decide to either take off the mask or retire. So after a grand total of one superhero fight, I’m retiring. Iron Man has found an excellent replacement for me. A man named Richard Rider who goes by Nova. He’s gonna do a whole press conference about the areas he’ll be looking into. I gave him all the info I had on the guys who have hurt people here. He’s up to date. This isn’t me officially passing on the torch, this is just me signing off. I’m sad I was only a superhero for one fight: never got an action figure. You’ll see me around. Nothing in the Accords stops someone in a mask swinging on buildings. That’s only as legal or illegal as the local law decides and the cops have never told me to stop. So, until they do, I’ll be swinging around I just won’t be taking a swing at anyone. I love swinging and it’s so much cheaper than public transport. I love you, Queens.” He flipped over the camera and turned it off as he caught it. Sending the footage to Tony he typed, “Ready when you are.” 

He was about to swing home when he heard, “Yoo-hoo! Spidey, I have burritos,” from a block away. 

He smiled and let himself fall then catch a web up. He swung easily. Landing he said, “Hey, Wade.”

“Spidey, you came for our dinner date.”

He’d been talking to his doctor about Skip only a couple of days before. Usually, Wade’s flirting didn’t distress him but tonight it made him uncomfortable. “I’m too young for you, Wade.”

“How young? Like Andrew Garfield or Billy Elliot?”

“I liked that movie!” said Peter. Then he added, “I’m not twelve but I also can’t drink.”

“Jesus, my baby boy is an actual baby. Well, not a dinner date.” He sighed and handed Peter a paper bag. “How’s it going, slugger?”

“I just made a YouTube resignation video. The Accords and Germany… I had to take off the mask or quit.”

“Oh no, Spidey, say it ain’t so. I thought you were just still recovering from fighting Captain Dogfucker. I’m gonna really miss you, slugger.”

“I’ll still eat meals with you and swing around but the hero for the area is going to be Nova. Don’t call me slugger.”

“‘Kay, champ. Can I see your resignation video?” Peter nodded and played the video. Wade watched and gave him a double thumbs up. “A plus, Spidey, top of the class.”

Peter felt himself smiling, the way he always did around Wade. “Thanks, Wade.”

“Why do you get to call me Wade and I gotta call you Spider-Man?”

“Why do you hurt people for money?”

“Ouch,” said Wade. 

“I like you, Wade, but I can’t tell an antihero my secret identity.”

“Bet Frank knows,” Wade pouted. 

“Frank Castle? No way,” said Peter. “I like you, Wade, but you gotta get right with the world before we can be mask-free friends.”

“Mask-free,” Wade giggled, “That sounds dirty.”

“Andrew Garfield is, like thirty, right?”

“Thirty-three, and so dreamy,” said Wade.

“I’m way closer to Billy Elliot than Andrew Garfield.”

“No dirty mask-free jokes then. So,” he seemed to cast around for a topic, “how is school?” 

“Got an A in my history midterm, aced my Spanish oral and my dissection in bio looked exactly like the book said it should. And my family is really good right now, I’m not missing class so I’m not getting in trouble, I’m sleeping so I’m not grouchy, I don’t keep disappearing and I’ve not covered in bruises I can’t explain. It makes life way easier.”

“Wow, everything is coming up Spidey.”

Peter smiled around his bite of burrito, “What’s going on with you?”

“Now I feel weird, knowing you’re a kid.” 

“Wade, I’m exactly who I was when you were buying this dinner earlier tonight. Answer the question the way you would have an hour ago just cut out the innuendo.” Deadpool launched into a long vulgarity-laced story about his exploits that made Peter laugh. 

Peter’s phone chirped with a message that simply read, “It’s a go.” Peter posted the video using backchannels to hide its source. Anyone trying to trace it would only be able to pinpoint it to Queens. 

Peter held his phone out, “Done, am I still cool enough to hang out with or do you only hang out with heroes?”

“You’re the coolest person I know, Spidey.”

They finished their burritos and Peter said, “Thanks for dinner, Wade. Have you tried that new hipster organic ice cream place?”

“What words in that statement make you think I would have?” asked Wade, eyes in the mask reacting cynically. Peter had envied his expressive mask for so long and then Tony has made his beautiful one that he only used in combat once. 

“Ice cream,” said Peter, “obviously. They have this burnt caramel flavored one and this honey marshmallow topping. Hipsters occasionally make good stuff. Iron Man told me to keep my spidey burner phone. I’ll text you Friday?”

“It’s a date,” said Wade brightly then he said, “No, it’s not.”

“Wade,” Peter laughed. “It’s fine. You don’t have to watch your language that carefully, just don’t grope me or straight up hit on me.”

“Thanks, Spidey. But I was correcting myself because it’s not a date: it’s an ice cream social.” 

Peter laughed. “Night, Wade,” he called as he swung off the roof. He dropped a few blocks from his apartment into an ally he changed quickly and then ducked out into the quiet street, making it home fast. It was May’s late night so Peter put on PJs, got the ice cream out of the freezer and turned on the History Channel. 

May came in and smiled, “Hey, what is it tonight?”

“People saying biblical numerology is actually alien code.”

“Do you remember when this channel showed actual history?” she asked.

“No, really?” asked Peter, genuinely surprised.

“Yeah, a decade ago,” said May.

“When I was five?” said Peter. “Sorry, May, I don’t remember that.” She sighed and sat down heavily next to him. He held out the second spoon he’d gotten just for her and the bowl full of ice cream, “Want to share? That sounded like a tired sighed.”

“How are you, Peter?”

“I’m awesome, Aunt May. I had a really nice night.”

“Did you see the news?” she asked. 

“Nah, I’ve been watching this junk since I got home.”

“I’ve never actually watched a Spider-Man video before. I’ve seen them on the news but I’ve never actually watched one. But Ashley, y’know with the hair, she showed me a video.”

“Oh yeah?” asked Peter. “Was it good?”

“He quit. His voice, it’s quite a thick Queens’ accent, about an octave lower and a half a tick slower than yours. I bet it’s mathematically calculated to fool all the algorithms, isn’t it? But I know my own kid’s voice.” 

He swallowed and looked away, “May,” he said slowly.

“Steve from Brooklyn and his big friend who punched you. That was Steve Rogers and Scott Lang, wasn’t it?” He nodded mutely. “I’m gonna kill Tony Stark.”

“No,” he finally found his voice. “Tony had no idea that Steve wouldn’t back down. No one saw Captain Awful coming. It wasn’t Tony’s fault. He thought it was just a posturing contest. And he made me a safer suit. He’s felt so badly, ever since. He’s the one who made me retire. He picked Nova to replace me.”

“So he’s ‘Tony’ not ‘Mr. Stark’ now? What the hell, Pete. What is your internship? Are you superhero training or having secret Avengers meetings?”

“I go over, we talk about science. I do my homework and keep him company while he does his work. We do some math, talk theory. I work on my grant project. Then we blow something up following the Stark Industry safety protocol. Then his driver Happy brings me home…Tony lost everything in Germany. He lost all his friends. I’m just his intern/friend. There’s nothing inappropriate or superhero about it. It’s an internship. I’m working on a new adhesive with my September Foundation grant money. ‘Science dinner’ is a lie. We don’t talk science over dinner. I go to a shrink who signed, like, a million NDAs and we talk about when I got bitten and Ben and just the last nine months in general. And then Tony and I get Chinese and he drives me home himself.”

“So part of your rebellious sneaking around is getting therapy?” she sounded disbelieving.

He nodded. “She’s really nice,” said Peter. “I’m starting to sleep better with her breathing technique. I’m having fewer nightmares. She’s easy to talk to.”

“And I’m not?” asked May, looking hurt.

Peter sank in his seat. “I didn’t tell you when I got bitten by the spider and got superpowers and I was freaking out and just trying to figure me out. I was fourteen and it was like the spider said, ‘Hey, puberty, hold my beer,’ y’know? And then Ben… May, I was there. I saw the crime and I didn’t get involved because I was a fourteen-year-old, not a superhero. But Ben was a superhero and he tried to… if I had been braver.”

“Stop, Peter, you said it: you were fourteen and not a superhero. None of it was your fault.”

“I broke curfew,” he said. 

“You didn’t shoot him,” she retorted.

Peter bit his lip and then said, “My psychiatrist says it’s not what you think that matters. It’s what I think because at the end of the night your voice stops but mine climbs into bed with me and it’s okay to be angry at myself if that’s what I feel. Your forgiveness doesn’t mean I forgive me.” he breathed out. “So, I’m working on that. Spider-Man was penance. Tony says that if there ever was a debt, I paid in now-crooked fingers and bruises that I hid.” He looked at his hands. “Tony took me to a special medical doctor who works on enhanced people. He took a look at my hands. I’ve broken and reset my fingers so many times in the last eight months that, even with my healing, I’m not gonna get them straight again. But they should get unnoticeable to anyone but me or you in a couple of years.” 

She took his hands and studied them, “You told me it was bullies. I thought they were just swollen.”

“It was bullies. But it wasn’t Flash or Harry in was the Rhino and Electro. And they were swollen but I had already set them and they’d started to heal.” He sighed, “I broke way fewer fingers after Daredevil taught me how to correctly throw a fist and how to block right.”

“Daredevil helped this whole thing? The Devil of Hell’s kitchen taught my child to box?”

“He has really good hearing, even better than mine which I thought was impossible. From a hundred feet he could tell from my pulse and my breathing patterns that I was young. He heard the way my knuckles ground as I moved my fingers and knew they were broken under my gloves. Then he asked me my worst subject in school. So we box and speak Spanish once or twice a week, depending on how much nervous energy we have. One time I went with too much energy but he had just taken a beating from the Kitchen Irish so we drank tea and I shouted a lot of feelings in Spanish.”

“Five months ago your Spanish grade got better,” said May.

“Yeah, that’s Daredevil. He was trained as a kid. He was younger and he didn’t want it. I did want the training but I don’t think he could bear to treat me like a soldier, the way he was. He encourages me to rehash the fight I had with Ned and what I shoulda said — as long as I do it in Spanish. He keeps Lucky Charms in his apartment because I like a snack after boxing and he doesn’t like the idea of me swinging home hungry.”

“So you know any other superheroes who should have told me?”

“Well, you know Rhodey and Vision, but they have only known since Germany. I met the Punisher once. He was friendly but I was really scared and I told Daredevil. Since then, the Punisher has been in Queens a few times but I’m pretty sure that Daredevil imposed a de facto restraining order because he has never come near me again. I think that if Frank Castle comes within one thousand feet of me, Daredevil will make him wish he hadn’t. I don’t think Castle is actually a bad guy, but he scares me and that’s enough for Daredevil. And there’s Deadpool.”

“Please tell me there is someone else called Deadpool,” May sounded so sad.

Peter just shook his head. “He’s really, really nice just several eggs short of a dozen. We’re friends. I try to talk him out of his life choices, he buys dinner. A couple of times he’s swooped in and helped me when there was another assailant I had missed. He’s really nice. He bought me a burrito tonight. It was fun because after I shot the video I was nervous and Wade already had a burrito waiting for me on a rooftop. We’re hanging out Friday just to get ice cream. I think he’s bummed I retired because he looks up to me. He really wants to be a hero, he just isn’t there yet.”

“Fine, I want to meet Daredevil and Deadpool,” she said, firmly.

“Daredevil, sure, I can make that happen. Deadpool has no idea what my name is. He’s a nice guy and he wouldn’t hurt us but I don’t trust him to keep a secret. I know he’s Wade; he doesn’t know I’m Peter. He’s never seen my face above my nose. Daredevil knows me; Deadpool knows Spider-Man.”

“You got bitten by something and now you can heal, and hear and make webs come out of your wrists?”

“The web shooters are mechanical; I built them and I created their fluid. It’s actually that formula that I’m improving for my September Foundation research. I got bitten by a radioactive spider. All of my senses are enhanced, to the point where sometimes they’re a liability. I’m really strong, I’m really agile and I can stick to walls. And Daredevil and Deadpool have both commented that my moral compass is superhuman but that’s Ben and your doing, not a spider.”

She nodded slowly, “I’m trying to process this, Pete. Let’s go from the angle that’s at least a little familiar. You invented web shooters and a new chemical compound. You’re my science wiz. Can I see these things?”

“Sure,” he said, then he thought about it and said, “Want to see me wall crawl to my room?”

“Okay, but be careful.”

“May, I’ve scaled Stark Tower,” he said, refusing to call it Avengers Tower nowadays. 

“That’s not a comforting thing to say.” He put his hands above his head and pressed against the wall, inching until he could get his feet over the couch and stuck. He moved up a little ways and started to climb easily, facing the room. 

“In that position, you look like something from the Exorcist,” said May, pulling a face.

He flipped easily, facing the wall as he moved, “Better?”

“Terrifying but less unnerving.”

“I’m only four feet off the floor.”

“On the wall, Peter.”

“I promise not to break myself or the coffee table,” he said as he moved across the ceiling easily, he went into the hall and May followed him, into his bedroom where he allowed himself to ease to the floor, attached to the ceiling only by the fingertips of one hand before releasing his grip and falling the last six inches.

She looked at him, studying him then she said, “Y’have to clean your room, Pete.”

“Really?” he laughed. “I climb on the walls and you say my room is messy?”

“It’s not messy; it’s appalling,” she gave him a small smile. Then she said, “I’m trying to take it all in. I love you, honey. Spider-Man is scary — what you did is scary — and I’m distressed. But you aren’t scary. So I’m trying to reconcile what you can do with how amazing you are. I don’t want you to think for one second that this changes how much I love you or how wonderful I think you are.” He opened his closet and then opened the false back and pulled out his original suit and the one Tony had made him. 

When he was little and there had been art shows he had always tried to show May and Ben the really good drawings first and May had always said, “Peter, I don’t care how good theirs are; I want to see what you made.” 

So now, he handed her Tony’s and said, “That’s the upgraded one Tony made me. But this is mine.” He showed her the one he had made out of a shirt, hoodie and sweats. He showed her the web shooters saying, “I made these in shop. Mr. Brenner thinks that they are steampunk bracelets for a Steampunk Victorian Captain America costume I said I was making for Hero-Con last summer.” He strapped one to his wrist and one to hers. “See the little mechanism on your palm? Tap that gently with your index and pointer finger and then move your fingers back quickly, like you’re flicking a playing card,” he showed her, aiming at the wall.

“Now you’re making more of a mess,” she said.

“In two hours it will shrivel into, like, dried silly string. It’s easy to clean up, promise.” She tried it out, web attaching to the ceiling, and her arm went down fast. “Oh, sorry, I forgot there is a kick for normal people.”

“My god, Peter.”

“Sorry, I forgot. The only time Daredevil used one he was trying to swing and it threw him totally off course.” He laughed and said, “It was really funny until I realized the landing had sprained his ankle… then it was still a little funny.”

“So that doesn’t feel like a really hard recoil to you?”

“Are you hurt?” he asked, worried, taking the shooter off her wrist.

“No, just shocked that that doesn’t feel like a kick to the wrist for you.”

“No, it’s fine, more like a nudge. I don’t really have to compensate for it. I have seen those YouTube videos of someone using a big gun and getting knocked off their feet. Is it like that?”

“Have you shot a gun?” she asked, worried.

“No, Aunt May, never. This has always been a no gun family.”

“I thought it was a no superhero family too,” she replied. 

“Uncle Ben died fighting a crime. Mom and Dad died because Dad accidentally invented a weapon for Norman Osborn and he and Mom fled to keep that from the man and he murdered them. I was trying to find out what happened to them. That’s why I got bitten — because I was snooping around Oscorp and found spiders Dad made. They gave people superhuman abilities. And when he realized Osborn wanted to make an army. He destroyed the first batch and made decoy ones coded to his DNA, they couldn’t give anyone else powers. No one but me could get powers from them… Ben might have been able to. I didn’t mean to get bitten. Osborn found out that Dad knew his goal so he made it look like an accident. He spent years trying to figure out how Dad did it, he kept the second batch of spiders. I’m glad Osborn is dead. He killed them and if he ever found out about me… Mom and Dad got killed while doing the right thing, Uncle Ben got killed while doing the right thing, you’re raising me all by yourself. This has always been a family of superheroes. I’m just the first one with superpowers.”

She sighed, “You can’t say nice things like that while I’m pissed at you,” she said. Then she said, “I thought Richard and Mary died in the accident.”

“The report didn’t read right. You know I have always been nosey.” She wrapped an arm around him and sat down on his twin bed, tugging him with her. 

“And you found that out a month before Ben died?” he nodded. “And you’ve been having nightmares ever since Ben died?” he nodded again. “Honey,” she exhaled slowly, “why didn’t you talk to me?” 

He sighed and said, “I have super hearing, May. I wake up from a nightmare and I can hear you, crying into your pillow, trying so hard to be silent. You’re so strong for me, all the time. How could I add more to that burden?”

She stroked his hair gently and said, “You’re never a burden, Peter. You’re my kid. I want to know when you’re upset.”

“I’m sorry, May,” he hugged her back.

“I’m pissed about Spider-Man, but it’s okay, we’re gonna be okay. You quit. So listen to me, you see any criminals doing crimes and you run, or swing or climb, whatever, get out of there.”

“I promise. I promise. I have a hotlink on my phone to Nova’s. I’ll flee, I’ll call him and I won’t go anywhere near it. I promise you and the UN; I’m done. Unless there’s a thing where it’s me or the universe, in which case, I have to. But then, like, I’ll make sure you die with me, so you won’t have to be lonely.”

“Aww, that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said,” she said jokingly.

“Yeah, no problem. I’m conscientious like that.”

She held his homemade mask and said, “How do you see through these? Did you sew in earmuffs?”

“Like I said, my senses are way, way too good. They’re like blinders for a horse, they help me hone in on what I should focus on. The one Tony made does the same it just looks way, way sleeker… sometimes I wear it when I’m studying. It helps. That dip in my grades before Ben died? That wasn’t teenage rebellion; that was sudden onset ADHD. When you can hear, taste, see and smell everything, all the time, it’s really hard to read Moby Dick.”

“Moby Dick isn’t easy without all that.” She said and he laughed, then his stomach growled. “Thought you ate dinner with Deadpool. You’re always hungry.”

“I think the superpowers upped my metabolism.”

“Want pizza?”

“Vince’s?” he asked. 

“Sure, second dinner from Vince’s.”

He held out the suit Tony had made and said, “I know you’re upset with him, but feel this suit.” She reached out and he handed it to her. “See how it’s super flexible but also really hard to tug?” she nodded, pulling it between her fingers. “That makes it so I can move really easily but it’s super resistant to being punches. It’s the world’s thinnest body armor. It’s also totally stab-proof and bullet resistant. But I never tried out getting stabbed or shot after getting it.”

“Have you been stabbed or shot?”

“Twice on both accounts,” said Peter. “Both Wade and Daredevil are really good at stitching. Wade does it without the lecture.”

“What about Tony? How are his stitching abilities?” she asked. 

“I don’t know; the only time he saw me injured was in the aftermath of Berlin. He didn’t know me before he turned up here, claiming I had gotten a September grant.”

“Did you apply to the September Foundation?” she asked and he shook his head, “You seemed pretty confused when he came.”

“Tony Stark, Iron Man, was in our living room, Aunt May. Of course I was confused. I had his dress-up costume when I was little and he was in our living room.”

“You were so cute when you used to play make-believe.” He laughed and stowed the costumes back into the false back of his closet. “Meat lovers and green pepper?”

“Yes, please.”

“Will you swing by and get it? My PJs are calling. But don’t literally swing by.”

“I’ll totally get it, May. No swinging until you’re comfortable. But what about ice cream with Wade on Friday? Would that be okay? We’re just gonna eat ice cream on a roof. Please?”

“Home by eleven,” she said.

“I hate to point this out,” said Peter, feeling silly for doing it, “but my non-school night curfew is nine thirty.”

“Have you obeyed that for the last nine months?”

“No, I’ve been out until three in the morning a lot. And a few times, I’ve had to sneak into my room, change my PJs and walk into breakfast pretending I’d just woken up.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “God, it’s so Mean Girls.”

“No, May, my hair’s big because Cosmo says you can fight hat hair with blow-drying and the same is true for mask hair. It’s not because it’s filled with secrets.”

She laughed. “I’m not a regular aunt: I’m a cool aunt. If you’re going to Spider-Man, I’d rather know about it. So, you can stay out until eleven if I know where you are. And, if you have too much energy, you have to tell me you’re going to go box with Daredevil and you have to text me when you leave his house and knock on my door when you get in. I don’t care what time it is. I can’t stop you from doing what you’re doing but please don’t block me out.”

“I’ve been getting so much sleep in the last couple of months, between the therapy and having given up Spider-Man duties,” he smiled, “You have no idea. I’m getting, like, over thirty hours a week more. I’d forgotten how much I like sleep.”

“You’re a teenager; you’re supposed to like sleep.” She kissed his temple and his stomach grumbled again. “Okay, I’m calling in the order, geesh.” 

***

Peter walked into the office and a man called out without looking up, “Sorry we’re closed.”

“Um,” Peter started and the man looked up.

“Sorry, um, no. We’re never closed to kids, personal rule of the firm. Hi, I’m Foggy.”

“Hi, Foggy. I’m not a client. I’m Peter, I’m friends with Matt. Is he out?”

“Coffee run with our office manager. Big deposition in a couple of days.”

“The Angels, right?”

“So you and Matt talk about cases?”

“Not really. I go to Matt’s dad’s boxing gym. I just heard that things are heating up in that case some young whippersnapper law firm was taking it on and I guessed and asked him. It’s totally got Nelson and Murdock written all over it.”

Matt walked in with Karen. Peter hadn’t known just how pretty she was. Matt was holding her arm and smiling as they spoke. It was weird to Peter that Matt was blind but was well aware of the fact that he was clinging to a pretty woman. 

“Hi, Matt,” said Peter. 

Matt turned in his direction and said, “Peter, is something wrong? Did I stand you up last night?”

“No. I was just telling Foggy how we’ve been hanging out at the ring. But, no, I didn’t go last night.” He cleared his throat, aware that there were two people who didn’t know his secret in the room. “My Aunt found out about the boxing and she’s uh, well, I grew up in a house where we don’t swear so I’m gonna go with peeved. But she’s been swearing; it’s weird.”

“Ah,” said Matt. “I told you she’d find out in the end.”

“Yeah, so it’s been a lot of, ‘What else have you been hiding?’ ‘We’re not a violent family,’ and ‘Well, I would like to meet the grownups who have been teaching my fifteen-year-old to hit people.’ So I’m here to invite you to dinner. But it’s less of an invite and more of a ‘She’ll get angrier the longer you wait’ warning.”

“Did you at least tell her that your boxing training only started after you kept getting beat up?” he asked. 

“I did, and I told her that you’ve been helping with Spanish and she’s noticed the change in my grade. And I told her about how that one guy made me uncomfortable and how he’s stopped talking to me since I told you. So, she’s less angry at you than when she first found out. But she’s still saying that the responsible adults in the boxing gym should have told her. And she’s angry that Tony Stark knows, talks to her about my science internship, but never told her about the boxing. I think she’s more concerned that I’ve been sneaking around and she sort of wants to double check that you aren’t a perv. But if you do want out, she doesn’t know your name, just that you’re a great guy. So she can’t find you. But my life would get easier if she could talk to you and see that you’re swell and not a perv.” That was his hint that May only knew Daredevil, not Matt. “She said she’d make lasagna. That’s a good sign. If she wanted to punish you preemptively she would make meatloaf. Her meatloaf is an acquired taste. I like it but I grew up with it. She knows that people who aren’t used to it don’t like it.”

Matt sighed, “Is it tonight? We have a lot of research.”

“No, she said any night that you can do.”

Matt sighed again, “Okay, you can tell her that Matt Murdock will be coming to dinner in two days and I’ll bring pie.”

“Thank you, Matt. I’ll get out of your hair. I know your court prep takes hours.”

“I told you she would find out in the end,” Matt repeated.

“That’s two I told you sos. She says I can keep training but that I have to text her when I arrive and when I leave. I’m not on a short leash but it’s a leash.”

“Well, you’re fifteen and you’ve been sneaking out to learn how to fight, so,” Matt let his words trail off.

“Yeah,” agreed Peter. Then he smiled at the two strangers in the room. “Foggy, Karen, it was nice to almost meet you and to put faces to the names.” 

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” asked Karen. “We can always use an extra set of eyes for our research. We’re ordering Chinese?”

“I wouldn’t want to crash,” said Peter.

“We would have to pay someone twenty bucks an hour for research help,” said Foggy, “if you’re willing to do it for Chinese, you’re doing us a favor.”

He said, “Well, let me check with Aunt May. Like I said: on a leash. But, yeah, I like Chinese and I’ll help however I can because it seems like a pretty cool case.” He pulled out his phone and typed quickly, “Went 2 ask Matt (guy who has been teaching me 2 box) 2 come 2 dinner. He said yes 4 day after 2moro. I went 2 his office, he’s a lawyer, and his partners invited me 2 stay for takeout and 2 help prepare 4 a case. They have documents 2 sort. Have you started dinner or can I stay?”

Her text said, “Homework?”

“Done in study hall. I do have 2 study for bio test.”

“Home before 9,” her message read, “I’ll put the extra crab cakes in the fridge; you can have them for a second dinner.”

“Thank you!” he texted back. To the room, he said, “I gotta leave by 8:30, but I’m in.”

“Cool, child labor for four and a half hours,” said Foggy.

“What homework do you have, Peter?”

“I have a big bio test next week that I’m studying for,” he admitted. 

“I was great at bio,” said Karen.

“So we get child labor for three hours and lose help for an hour and a half,” said Foggy. He thought and said, “Still worth it.”

“I only need like an hour,” said Peter. “But I’d like to start with your stuff just to clear my head a bit.”

“How was your Spanish oral?” asked Matt. 

“I got told to work on my accent but I got a great score on my vocab and a pretty good one on grammar.”

“Cool, well, if your Aunt’s not too mad we can at least work on that.”

“She said that I can keep sparring, because I like it, but I have to keep her in the loop.”

Foggy handed him a stack of papers and said, “So here’s what we’re finding: any mention of God or retribution in these emails in the three months before the alleged events.” 

“Is it okay that I’m reading these? Like, private correspondence?” asked Peter.

“It’s fine, the way the info was subpoenaed means it’s now public record,” said Foggy.

“Cool,” Peter started working through it. It was relaxing. He asked, “Only God and retribution or synonyms as well?”

“In context, that would be great,” said Foggy. He got through a week’s worth of emails, reading and highlighting. 

Karen said, “So, Peter, do you like superheroes?”

“Are you asking cause I seem like a dorky kid who gets bullied and probably has action figures mint in box?” she faltered and he said, “Nah, I’m messing with you: I love superheroes. But I totally take my action figures out of their boxes. I used to live in my Iron Man outfit when I was a little kid.”

“Did you see that Spider-Man quit last night?’ she asked.

“He didn’t quit, he retired,” said Peter. “I think that’s an important distinction. He can’t be a street hero having taken actions as a superhero: you can’t have it both ways. And, as he’s not going to take off his mask and he isn’t going to sign the Accords, he kind of had to, didn’t he? I mean, if you believe in the goodness of superheroes, and that we can hold them to a higher standard, then they have to follow the Accords. As he excluded himself from the ranks of street hero, he had no choice but to take a step back. Right? I mean, maybe that’s just my opinion as a fifteen-year-old from Queens who idolizes heroes, but I don’t think I’m wrong.”

“So, you’re for the Accords, you’re on Team Iron?” asked Foggy with a smile. 

“Tony Stark is a friend, I’m the youngest recipient of a September Foundation grant. I work on my research one-on-one with Tony four days a week. On Tuesdays, we go out to dinner and get hangout. Steve Rogers has been charged in absentia with his attempted murder. Captain America’s refusal to listen to the UN’s rules makes him scary. Those laws are there to add checks and balances to superpowers. The fact that he hurt my friend makes him a bad guy. So, yeah, Team Iron.” 

“Don’t you think the Accords are scary for enhanced people, inhumans and mutants?” asked Karen.

“No, I think bigots on the internet would like to make them dangerous to people with powers. The current iteration says that if you want to be a superhero and take power into your hands, superseding armed forces and law enforcement, you have to listen to the UN. That’s all it says. That’s what Tony signed. The current one isn’t about powers, hence Tony needing to sign it. Could amendments and new laws screw it up and make it a nightmare for people with powers? Sure. But, also, if you drink enough water you die and if you don’t drink you die. So, it’s about balance. I feel safer knowing that the people who are supposed to protect us take responsibility. Because my uncle always used to say, ‘With great power comes great responsibility,’ and before they didn’t take any responsibility at all. I sleep better in my bed knowing that the X-Men, Fantastic Four, tons of random heroes and what’s left of the Avengers now have grownups in charge. None of the kids at Xavier’s School for Talented Youngsters have signed, the UN didn’t ask for a student roster. The UN isn’t Congress. I’m scared of what Congress wants to do to people with powers but the Accords are pretty good.”

“You say that as someone without powers,” Foggy sounded irritated. 

Peter nodded, “That’s true. I’m speaking as someone who doesn’t have to be scared. I’m all for street heroes, Jessica Jones, Luke Cage, Daredevil: awesome. They have powers, they’re great and they aren’t signing the Accords because they aren’t super. But if you gonna take on the universe, I want a grownup in the room. I love Tony but I don’t think someone who could reasonably have ‘Fudge OSHA’ tattooed on his forehead should have the last say on how to handle the apocalypse. If SHIELD still existed, I would be more comfortable. But I’ll take what I can get. You can call me cynical, but it’s true. I love superheroes but at the end of the day, they’re individuals and they don’t always make the right call.”

They went back to work, Peter made it through three more weeks of emails before Matt said, “Chinese food time. I’ll order the usual and, Peter, what do you like?”

“General Tso’s chicken, cold sesame noodles an eggroll and brown rice not white.”

“Okay,” said Matt. “I’m sharing your noodles but you can have some of my dumplings.”

“Fair trade,” agreed Peter. 

“Can I trade with some scallion pancakes?” asked Karen. 

“Yeah, I’m not that territorial about my food,” said Peter. “Unless it’s Starbursts. I don’t share Starbursts.”

“He will slap them out of a blind guy’s fingers,” confirmed Matt.

“Dude, you knew what you were signing up for when you took it,” said Peter, with no remorse.

Matt laughed, “Yeah, I did. I just really didn’t think you were actually going to take food away from a blind guy.” 

They went back to work. And Peter was just starting week nine when the food came. He set his piles aside and Foggy looked at them, “Wait, Peter, how far are you into your stack?”

“Three days into week nine,” said Peter. ‘Is the dog breeding thing code or are they like those nutty National Dog Show people?”

“They’re actually talking about dogs but the prosecution thinks it’s code,” said Matt.

Foggy was turning through his pages, “This is all correct. You did a great job.” 

“Would you like to sound more surprised?” said Peter, as he helped Karen lay out all their food.

“I thought the three months would take you all night. You’re nine weeks in after starting an hour and a half ago.”

“I’m a fast reader but all the dog stuff is so boring. Dude, get a second interest,” he shrugged. 

“Matt, can we keep him?” asked Foggy.

“If his aunt doesn’t castrate me, maybe you can talk Peter into an internship.”

“I already spend, like, twelve hours a week on my grant work, I have academic decathlon and my best friend just got the LEGO Death Star: it’s four thousand and sixteen pieces — that’s gonna take weeks for us to build. Add in skateboarding, boxing, hanging out with my friend Wade and making cool YouTube videos on top of the fact that my aunt is kind of forcing a curfew on me and I don’t have a date for homecoming and that’s coming up in a month? I don’t have time for a second internship.”

“Maybe you should give up boxing,” said Matt, “and you should definitely stop hanging out with Wade.”

“No, like I said, she says that if she says you’re cool I can keep boxing. And I like Wade.”

“Does she know about Wade? I wouldn’t be happy if I was your parent and I knew you were hanging out with Wade.”

“Wade’s not that bad. You just rub each other the wrong way. I’m all for occasionally helping with research if you feed me, but I don’t want a second internship: my head will explode. I haven’t read for fun in six months.” He took Matt by the arm and moved him in front of the table and told him the locations of all the foods. He saw Foggy give him a look, he wondered if he was overstepping a friendship boundary — if Foggy felt Peter was taking away his job. Of course, Matt didn’t need help but Karen didn’t know that and Peter wasn’t supposed to know that.

“Thanks, Pete,” said Matt, taking a plate to serve himself. 

“No problem,” said Peter. Then he asked, “What do you guys do for fun?”

“Drink, mostly,” said Foggy. 

“Sometimes I attempt to date,” said Karen.

“You have way more of a life than us,” said Matt.

“You guys need to get out more,” said Peter. “A fifteen-year-old shouldn’t have more of a life than people who can rent a car, go to clubs and see R rated movies unaccompanied.”

“I can’t rent a car and movies are pointless without someone whispering to me,” said Matt.

“Fine, you’re excused from having a life because, as we know, the blind should be excluded from society,” said Peter making Matt laugh, throwing his head back and enjoying it. 

Foggy laughed too but Karen just looked shocked, “Karen, if you don’t laugh it just seems mean,” said Matt, still snickering. Then he added, “Where are the eggrolls?”

“Two o’clock,” said Peter.

They ate chatting about the case. Peter got out his textbook and said, “I hate biology so much. It’s the gross side of science. Give me physics, engineering and chemistry any day of the week. There’s no math in biology. Gross and not fun. And what’s the point? We all know the one thing we need to: mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.”

“I like bio,” said Karen. “It’s closer to home. Science always seemed high concept to me but biology — I’ve got a body, I eat food, I see plants. I could get that science.”

“You also see cars,” said Peter. “Engineering is also all around you. And it’s not gooey inside,”

“High concept,” said Karen. “Besides, Chemistry can be gooey too.”

“Isn’t your September grant work on adhesives?” asked Matt. 

“I don’t like blood, okay? And when you think about it breathing is really creepy because it’s essentially just your body making rust. And digestion? Ew. There was this line in Doctor Who that said, ‘Life is just nature’s way of keeping meat fresh,’ and that sums up pretty much everything gross about animal biology. Everything is walking meat or fuel for walking meat.”

“Not everything is walking meat,” protested Matt. “Some people don’t have legs.”

That set off another bout of giggles at the sheer absurdity. They started passing around his textbook and quizzing him on the three chapters for the test. Matt just made his questions up, gathering enough context from the others to know things to quiz him on despite not being able to read the book. It was way more fun than studying on his own but a few times he got stuck and needed their help to hammer facts into his head. After about three quarters of an hour, Peter said, “Okay, I’ve reached saturation on bio.”

They returned to the papers and Peter ate seconds while working. He finished and said, “What’s next?”

“Next, you go home and get in long before your curfew and hang out with Aunt May so that I can look like a responsible grownup who respects school nights.”

“It’s only seven forty-five,” protested Peter.

“Go home, Peter, I’ll be over for dinner in two days.”

“You were a big help,” said Foggy. “Seriously, no condescension: you totally earned dinner.”

He smiled, accepting the praise, and texted May, “Leaving Hell’s Kitchen. CUS.” He took the subway to Lexington and 59th Street and then swung home from there, far enough from the office that neither Foggy nor Karen would connect him to Spiderman. He always loved swinging high above the Queensboro Bridge. It took half the time to get home than it would have by subway. He made a quick change a few blocks from home and continued on. Mrs. Valarieo from 4B was struggling with bags. Peter smiled, “Hey, Mrs. V. Can I help with your groceries?” He took all of her bags from her. “You wanna grab your mail? I got these.” 

They talked about the weather as they walked upstairs together. He handed off her bags as they got to the door, she wasn’t comfortable enough to invite him in. New Yorkers were always shown as both gruffer and yet strangely more trusting in movies. Just because you’d lived in the same building for years didn’t mean you invited your neighbors inside, even when they carried four shopping bags for you. 

“Thank you, Peter, say hello to your aunt for me?”

“Absolutely, Mrs. V.”

Peter went back downstairs and unlocked the door to his own apartment. Opening the door he called, “Hey, May, Mrs. V says hi.” 

May smiled at him as he entered the living room, “You’re home early.”

“Yeah, Matt thought it might make you think he’s respectable,” agreed Peter, sitting down on the couch next to her.

“I went on Google. The only young lawyer, with a small practice, in Hell’s Kitchen, called Matt is a guy called Matthew Murdock, but he’s blind.”

“That’s, that’s Matt,” said Peter.

“Daredevil uses a fake disability as his cover story?” She asked, eyebrows shooting up.

“No, he is one hundred percent blind. He got radioactive chemicals splashed on his face when he was a kid. He doesn’t even have light sensitivity. He is stone-blind. But, the radiation did something to his other senses. He has, essentially, echolocation. Four out of five of his senses are turned up to eleven. So he can totally perceive the world. But he can’t read a book, or watch a screen, or know what color someone’s hair is. He could teach me how to box but he doesn’t know what color my eyes are. He’s not faking his blindness but he doesn’t like it when people call it a disability. Unless you’re friends and you make a really dark joke about it.” He sighed, “And Matt Murdock isn’t Daredevil’s cover story. That’s like saying that Peter Parker is Spider-Man’s cover identity. Matt is a lawyer who takes on absurd unwinnable cases and fights tooth and nail for his clients. Matt is a Catholic who confides in his priest and asks for directions on how to be a good man as well as a vigilante. Matt is a blind guy who is broke but sleeps on silk sheets because anything else feels like sandpaper with his sense of touch. Matt is a guy who keeps cereal a random kid likes in his kitchen because the kid sometimes needs help dealing with pent-up anger. Matt is my friend. Sometimes he puts on a red costume and kicks some bad guy butt, but he is always Matt.” 

He shook himself, trying to dispel his anger but he said, “I know that it’s your turn to be angry about the situation we’re in and I’m supposed to be apologetic about keeping secrets but I want it on the record that it makes me both angry and hurt that you would suggest that Matt’s whole life is nothing more than a veneer to hide Daredevil. It makes me wonder if you would think that Peter Parker was just cover for Spidey if I weren’t your kid. You have friends at work who are sixty-five-year-old nurses and friends who are doing their first year as RNs. Matt is a work friend. Are we going have sleepovers? No, he’s thirty-one and that’s creepy. Have we eaten dim sum on roofs at four in the morning high on adrenaline because we just stopped a drugs for guns barter? Yeah, more than once. Matt is my colleague and you don’t have to like him but you have to be polite to him because he is my friend who has mentored me in both self-protection and Spanish. It hurts me when you assume that the mask supersedes the person behind it. You’re allowed to be angry at me and at him but please don’t break us down into parts. Matt’s blind; he’s a lawyer; he graduated Summa Cum Laude; eighty percent of his lightbulbs are burned out at any given time; he likes movies more for the commentary of the person sitting next to him than for any plot he could gleam; the bar he likes is so dirty that he refuses the ice; he was born and raised in Hell’s Kitchen and the idea of leaving city limits makes him feel nauseous; he likes Chinese more than pizza; he likes his coffee burnt which is weird because he has a heightened sense of taste; he has a really dry sense of humor; he is also Daredevil for about six hours a night. Daredevil is why I met him but that aspect is not why we’re friends.”

“Honey,” she said slowly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m still trying to get my head around all this. It’s just… the papers called him the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.” 

Peter nodded, “J. Jonah Jameson calls me a webbed menace and says that if I want to wear a mask and not be famous then he’ll make me infamous. Newspapers want to sell newspapers; they don’t care about the truth. Matt doesn’t kill people he stops drug dealers and pimps and weapon dealers. He calls the cops. He’s more violent than me and he fights normal criminals and large groups of criminals instead of supervillains but he’s not the devil.”

She nodded, “I’ll give him a real chance.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you.”

“So, bio?”

“No, Matt’s office manager is really good at bio so she helped me and then Matt and his partner Foggy quizzed me. So, wine for you, hot chocolate for me and a procedural cop show?”

“You’re a good boy, Peter, let’s watch an old Star Trek.” 

He smiled, “Thanks, Aunt May.” 

They set about getting drinks and May said, “Still hungry? The crab cakes worked well.”

He opened the fridge and took out the plate covered in Clingfilm and said, “You’re the best, May.” 

Sitting down on the couch they settled in to watch the show. May wrapped an arm around him and said, “I’m not angry, Peter. I’m not, I’m just worried. You only met Tony Stark a couple of months ago, so I can’t blame him. You only met Matt a few months before that, so I can’t pin it on him. So I guess… This is our new normal.”

“My new normal is being not Spider-Man. I like my new normal. Retirement becomes me.”

“Most fetching,” agreed May as Peter enjoyed with crab cakes and the show as May stroked his hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment or leave kudos if you liked it. I hope you did!


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